There are spirits that haunt the young man, as to what reason I do not know. Only he would. There is a great power around you young one. Both gifts yet some might call a curse. Use them wisely and you can grow to be great in power and knowledge. She nods to them. Now what have you come to ask a witch like myself?

The man looked up, aye...that night was a cold bad night. I remember it so clearly. I has finished working in the forge late at night making a weapon fit to deliver to the Prince. It was my finest work yet and with it nearing his birthday I was to travel and deliver it. There was some sounds a little outside of town. Several men arrived in dark cloaks on horses. They cut down several men were they stood before entering in the cathedral. Shortly after that I entered shortly after that to see what I could find. I went down the four floors that we have and when I got close to the catacombs I heard some dark demonic chanting as thought they were trying to summon something. I went deeper against my better judgement. There was one that seemed to be dictating the others on what to do. he seemed like a powerful mage. I ran back as fast as I could not thinking that they would cause hell to break loose. Also I would thank Ye greatly if it is found. Griswold replies.

Ah, yes the evil that lurks with-in. It has been caused by some powerful mages from what I can tell. The dark magic that lingers in this town has risen over time, it is obvious that there was something here to begin with that would call them to unleash their leader. They would need some host to call upon one of the great evils...Diablo Lord of Terror. It seems that he is coming from the depths of this place and when he breaks out all hell will break loose and Tristram will be lost forever. Unless someone can stop it and host the Lord of Terror in his or her Body. The witch has obviously been well versed in the dark arts over the years of using magic.

The leather-clad man's eyes grow wide and whatever small amount of color he had in his cheeks pales away. He opens his mouth to say something, but can't make a sound. Turning his head, he glances back at the tavern. Don't even bother. There's not enough booze in this whole damn town for this one.

Looking back to the blacksmith, he smiles weakly, mutters a quick thanks, does an about-face, walks right up to the fountain (filled with foul-looking and -smelling water), and dunks his head. Submerged, nobody can see the look of abject horror on his face or hear his hollered epithets, curses, and panicked, terrified screams. The only indication of his outburst is a violent bubbling of the water that lasts for several seconds. Finally, the man pulls his head out and leans casually against the fountain. Water streams down his face, soaking his clothes, and he shivers violently as another breeze picks up, feeling all the more frigid for being wet. Sighing deeply, he uses his cloak to towel himself off a bit. Leaning his back against the fountain again, the dampened raven ruffles his feathers and gazes at the moon.

Cloaks? Check. Chanting? Check. Creepy underground locale? Check. That's all the confirmation I need. Only problem is, it sounds like this is the work of a cabal, not one lone mage. And that's a really, really big problem.

To understand the magnitude of the problem that a cabal poses, there are some things about magic that you need to understand. Firstly, magic is powerful. One mage on his own can rain down fire from the sky, open the ground underneath you, summon a demon, and teleport far, far away. And he can do this in a span of about a minute. But that's fine; you can subdue a mage, and then he can't do anything. But a group of mages working together can be much more effective at defending themselves, even ignoring all of the extra firepower. You take one down, three more are throwing lightning at you, creating ethereal cages to trap you, and healing the one you just took down, all at the same time. Aside from that, mages working in tandem can perform feats of magic that can completely rupture the fabric of existence. Two mages casting individually can produce two demons. Two mages cooperatively performing a ritual can summon a single, reasonably powerful demon. I'm not talking imps here, I mean like one of those bastards with a name and everything, like Gorbacz the Vile-Tongued. Three mages? Now we're talking semi-permanent portals to Hell.

It is a old stone that mages who worshiped the lords of terror would carry with the right vessel and magic they can summon the Lord of Terror. I do not know much for this is dark magic I do not dabble in naturally. [/b]

The color drain for the elderly mans face The Butcher...Lazarus setting a trap...that does not seem possible. He was the kings most trusted servant and friend. I would tell you to arm yourselves as best as possible before entering the cathedral if what you said is true then you may very well be fighting for your lives.

Was hoping I would get some response fom all that, but oh well. I'll try and keep it moving.

Hearing the conversation drifting from the other side of the fountain, the man breaks from his reverie. Taking a few steps around to join the conversation, he interjects. "What's this about Lazarus and a butcher?"Were the baker and the candlestick-maker in on it too?

The raven-haired man listens to the story, frowning deeply. He shakes his head in frustration as he tries to piece it all together.

In response to the question, he answers, "I never gave it, same as you. The name's Rasmus." Shivering again, he draws his cloak around him tightly before laying out the the information his investigation has uncovered. "What you're telling me... I don't understand how it all fits together. The barkeep went on about men attacking in the night, and about the Archbishop disappearing into the labyrinth with the prince. The blacksmith says he followed the attackers down into the labyrinth and witnessed a summoning ritual. Now some bloody carcass of a man says that the Archbishop was laying a trap? It doesn't add up to me. But we know one thing for sure: there are demons in the church. And that seems like a good place to start. I'm with Four-Arms. But if we're all planning on going, we may as well wait for the others. I don't know about the rest of you," he says, now addressing the old man and the burnt fellow as well as the Zakarumites, "but I need to warm up. I'm going back to the tavern."

Without waiting for a response, Rasmus heads off for the tavern in search of a warm fire.

By the way, should I roll a Fortitude save or anything for the water? I know it's tainted, but I'm not sure if there's a mechanical effect associated with it.

Emilio follows suit. After returning to the Tavern, he sets himself up by Rasmus. "The name's Emilio. If it isn't too much to ask, would you join us in cleansing this town of its problems?" Looking at Rasmus shiver, he makes another offer. "I could cure you of your cold, if you'd like. It's one of my duties as a Cleric."

Lessor Restoration will remove up to 1d4 of that Con damage you took. Hopefully it'll get rid of at least 2 points so you get your health back. And don't worry about my spell slots. I've still got two more spells after that one.

It would seem so. Of course, I doubt that the illness has had much time to take hold yet. I'll refrain from accepting the offer of healing for the moment; at the moment it's just a little too metagamey, and aside from that, I'd much rather suffer the effects in-character for awhile. The effect of me dunking my head in tainted water should be that I'm a bit sick, not that the cleric is down a spell; I feel like those should be saved for situations where the damage is not self-inflicted. I appreciate the offer, though.

Rasmus, sitting as close to the fire as he can, looks up at the approaching cleric. He shivers and sniffles a little, rubbing himself to aid his efforts to get warm. "It's just a little chill's all. No need to waste your Light on that."At least I hope it's just a chill. That stunt wasn't my brightest move, was it?"It seems that we all share the same goals, regardless of our motives. I'll accompany you in this quest, Zakarumite. Those responsible for this blight have offended the Light and forsaken the teachings of Horazon. They must be put to death. But it won't be easy," he says, shaking his head slowly.

We won't really need a map until it gets to tactical combat time, and that'll take forever anyway.

Rasmus looks up at the fearsome, four-armed woman with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion on his face. "You sure you wouldn't rather have...stew...or something?"Zakarum is even weirder than I remember.

Rasmus opens his mouth as if to say something, but finds no words. Instead he merely stares at the unsettling woman for a moment, his mouth gaping, before turning his head back to Emilio and promptly changing the subject. "So what brings you to Tristram? Are you here on church business, or are you investigating on a personal whim?"

"Yeah, this is mostly church business. I've never actually been outside my home town before, so this is a very new experience for me." He looks at his holy symbol as it glistens in the light of the fire. "After I devoted my life to Iomade (or Zakarum as you say) I had to give up a few things. I feel as though it gave me a better outlook on life, but I still miss them..."

His thoughts drift until he snaps out of it. "Oh, sorry. I sometimes loose track of time."

Your teachings of the church told you about such a thing but the most you can recall is that the stone is a dark, dark thing that is not of this world that would mean the ends of times to wherever it is used. You also know that diablo is one of multiple lords of terror, but not the exact number.

I only keep saying Zakarum as an in-character interpretation. The GM hasn't actually addressed how the Golarion elements are reflected within the realm of Sanctuary, so I'm doing the best I can to fill it in on my own, at least as far as my character's reactions go. At this point, given his lack of ranks in religion, Rasmus is going to make assumptions; for example, he assumes that Iomedae is a saint in the Zakarum religion. I've already got plans for Aylya when the time comes...

Rasmus turns at the sound of the creaking door opening. The strains of the ever-repeating song drift in, bringing with it two of the other strangers, the chilly girl and the unremarkable-looking kid. Once again, he finds himself gaping with incredulity, this time at the girl with her utterly casual claims regarding the Lord of Terror.

Crazy four-armed Zakarumite talking about eating sin, crazy ice girl talking about legendary demon lords? What's next?! I don't even think I have it in me to come up with some weak joke to hide my complete and utter dread! This job just keeps going from bad to worse! Here I am, waltzing into Tristram, thinking it's just going to be an open-shut case of rogue magery. Nope, more like the workings of a cabal. No, Rasmus, actually it turns out that you were basically being sent to your painful, horrifying death at the hands of a cult of demon-worshipers bent on the utter annihilation of existence as we know. Don't let the door hit you on the way out!

I'm going to kill Natalya for this. That chick is dead. SO DEAD. We may have had our differences in the past, and sure, maybe I don't always treat her with the proper respect she's due as my commanding officer, but I think sending me directly to my doom counts as a bit of an overreaction, don't you? Besides, that promotion should have been mine to begin with. It seems that Hell hath exactly the fury of a woman scorned.

"Tell them little one they need to know it all, we go to fight that which would end all, keep nothing make they need to know what they will be facing"

She takes a deep breath.

"The witch here has the sight, I know, she knew things only one with it could know, She talked of some thing called the 'blood stone' Said its an old stone that mages who worshiped the lords of terror would carry, that once they had 'the right vessel' and magic they can summon the Lord of Terror. She says this is very dark magic, that she knows little of as she herself doesn't dabble such natural things. She said there are ones of a blood line that could be used as the 'the right vessel' but with the blood stone any one could be used, the good news she said there was no prophecy involved, so no gods to upset"

Emilio stands up, a new look of determination on his face. "I was taught to be without fear in all things. If we are to take on this "Lord of Terror," then so be it."

He walks to the door of the tavern. "This demon plague needs to be stopped. As the elf said, if you're afraid, now's the best time to run home. I'm going to face these demons by myself if I have to. Who's with me?"

Rasmus scoffs at Aylya and Emilio. His incredulence has faded, leaving nothing but a cold, long-suffering resignation to what must lay ahead. What mirth there may have been in his eyes has gone as well, and he fixes the company of would-be demon hunters in his brown orbs. Slowly, he shakes his head, his mouth turning down in a sneer. "You don't seem to understand how bad the situation really is. If you did, I wouldn't be the only one with wet pants. If what you say is true, if we're really dealing with the Lord of Terror, then it's not enough to keep a stiff upper lip and pretend that you're not afraid. If you don't feel fear now, it just means that you're fertile ground for the seeds he'll grow. The only way to face him is to acknowledge your fear, and master it. If you don't, Terror will master you."

Fighting the growing sickness in the pit of his stomach, he stands. Looking at Aylya, he shakes his head again. "You shouldn't be worried about upsetting your gods; if you insist on this, they've already forsaken you." Dropping his head, Rasmus closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, performing a mental exercise to summon up the strength to say the words he knew must come. Exhaling, he shakes his head slowly, looking back at the group. "Let's just get this over with."

you knowleg told you the names off all the lords or terrors and prime evils there are. That along with the fact that people tried to bring him back in the past and they failed and contained him in the blood stone. ^^; sorry bout that

Aylya fixes Rasmus with a cold hard look, her eyes look over the washed out and cynical vagabond in front of her Shivering from fear or cold it matters not, his pointless red scarf was not keeping what ever it was out, he looked sick. She had been told of the type, the ones that would hide in an Ice caves wile the sounds of their tribes death make them cower in the dark. They would let a whole tribe die so they could be safe. Slinking, sly types always seeking ways to keep themselves face 1st and foremost.

"I smell fear in this one Aylya, he would see the world freeze so his skin be safe, trust him not on the hunt for he will run to save his own skin."

In a cold hard voice Aylya says.

"I was born on the ice where life and death are simple, fear and dread are constants, the great white seeks always your tribes end. By Tooth, claw, crack and flow, under, above, in it, always and forever. Many of my blood have spent their lives so I may stand here now. What should I do now, evil comes and will not stop with a village so My tribe will live if I hunt well here and now, live or die, nothing more matters... "

She starts to trun her back on the small human.

"So Soft, plump, hot meal'ed, fire warmed tribe-less, southerner, keep your fear chilled breath to yourself, It is of no use to me."

She turns her back on him, totally forgotten until he shows worth to the tribe.